


A Series of Drabbles and Shorts

by HollowMachines



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Canon Compliant, Drabbles, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot Collection, Post-Timeskip, canon ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowMachines/pseuds/HollowMachines
Summary: A series of ignoct drabbles and shorts I wrote on my tumblr ages ago, now compiled and archived here.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	1. None of this is your fault

**Author's Note:**

> What it says on the tin. This is just a compilation of my ffxv/ignoct writing on tumblr, for myself and whomever else wants to read them.

He whispers the words like a secret into the cold silence of the room. 

Noct has long since passed out; burried deep among the sheets and thick duvet of the plush bed. His rest was fitful but then, Ignis recons, so have his waking hours been.

He’s shed tears he shouldn’t have had to shed, pleaded apologies Ignis never wanted to hear him make; that he shouldn’t have _had_ to make. In the wake of Lunafreya’s passing, the shadows of Insomnia’s fall and his father’s death, Noct aches like an exposed nerve, his words desperate and biting and bitter. His face no longer able to mask his fear, his anguish; the tears fall freely from dulled eyes Ignis can feel watching his scarred visage constantly. 

Ignis keeps his head turned away if only to spare Noct the guilt he must feel.

He sits now at Noct’s bedside, listening as he struggles for some solice in his dreams. Ignis knows he will find none there.

These words are all Ignis can say to ease the pain; both Noct’s and his own. He regrets nothing but his own failure. 

He brushes dark strands of hair back and presses a kiss to Noct’s pale skin; feather-light and far more than Ignis has ever allowed himself to do, but he does it nonetheless. 

His words, shallow and soft, so close to Noct’s ear he hopes to penetrate his very dreams and give him peace.

“Noct, none of this is your fault.”

Ignis believes it. Ignis _knows_ it.

Now he just needs Noct to believe it too.


	2. Wow, you look… amazing

It’s not like Noct has never seen Ignis in a suit, it’s just… usually it’s a little more casual. Or at least, as casual as Ignis can be, considering Noct compares his day-to-day outfit to that of a glorified butler. Not that Noct sees him as one of course; far from it.

But those times had been before Noct had become acutely aware of how Ignis made him feel and the change in their relationship that had ensued as a result of those realizations (and some awkward late-night confessions).

Even so, as Ignis stands in his doorway dressed to the nines in a deep grey three piece, tie hanging loose, shoes shined to perfection, suit jacket framing him in all the right ways, and his hair pristinely dressed down and sweeping across his brow, Noct is having a hard time saying… anything.

In fact he’s too busy thinking about all the indecent ways he wants to get Ignis _out_ of that suit.

Hell, Noct is dressed in his own black pinstripe suit, but he hates how it looks on him; he doesn’t fill it out right and he just feels wrong. But Ignis…

“Wow, you look… amazing.”

Ignis’ brow quirks but Noct catched the distinct tinge of red across his cheeks as he ducks his head to clear his throat.

“Yes, well, thank you. I could say the same about you.”

“You could, but you won’t. Because you’d be lying. I look ridiculous in this.”

“Not at all,” Ignis hums and steps forward, hands moving to run gentle fingers down Noct’s lapels and across his chest and shoulders. His fingertips brush teasingly against the skin of Noct’s neck, setting his nerves on fire. 

When he leans in Noct meets him in a searing kiss before he feels Ignis smile against his lips. 

“I think you look absolutely wonderful.”


	3. Who did this?

Even in the silence of the tent, Ignis knows he’s awake. With the way Noct is pressed close behind him, Ignis hears the ragged breathing and feels the warm puffs against the bare skin of his back.

Then, gentle as a soft breeze, fingers slide up between his shoulder blades, and Ignis shudders under the tenderness. Those fingers are searching; hunting a prize that they find when they trace old scars gouging his flesh.

“Noct…”

“You didn’t used to have these,” Noct mutters as if vexed by the lines across Ignis’ back; reminders of a hard-fought life.

Ignis breathes deep, eyes downcast.

“Who did this?” Noct asks before Ignis can think of anything to say. He’s tracing a nasty mark from his left shoulder blade down to his mid-back.

“An unfortunate run-in with a pair of Sahagin,” Ignis says quietly.

Noct hums absently, but when Ignis rolls over, hands searching, he feels the furrowing of his brows and the way his lips quiver. Ignis takes Noct’s hand where it hangs in the air, fingers lacing into the empty spaces between his own.

“It was a long time ago, Noct.” He knows it’s not reassuring, but he also knows what Noct is doing.

He’s calculating all the ways to feel guilty for his long absence; cataloguing all the things he could have stopped had he been there, all that his friends wouldn’t had to have suffered.

Ignis slides forward until he and Noct are nearly chest-to-chest, clasped hands pressed between their beating hearts. Heat pulses between them.

He can feel Noct’s eyes wandering, hand pulling free so fingers can follow a line across his collarbone that Ignis knows well.

“And this one?” Noct whispers, voice sounding more raw with each syllable. “Who did that?”

He doesn’t want to say; it’s a point of wounded pride for Ignis, but Noct is watching him closely, desperate for an answer. Ignis has never been able to deny him anything.

“A rogue hunter; one who’d turned from his duty for his own gain.”

“You took a hit like this from some two-bit hunter?”

Ignis grimaces. “It was early on in my….recovery. I was still adjusting when we came across one-another.”

Noct stills, hand opening to press flat against the bone. “Did… did you win, at least? I mean, of course you did, you’re still… here.”

Fingers stetch to tease at his throat. A strike so close to ending his life.

“Noct,” Ignis settles his hand at Noct’s waist, curling what he hopes are reassuring fingers into his skin. He leans in to press his forehead to Noct’s.

Ignis wishes he could wrap them in this moment forever; to never let Noct face these fears or doubts. He wishes he could lift those burdens from his shoulders just so he could sleep; rip fate from his hands and tear it apart as he’d once thought he could do.

“And this one?” Noct mumbles, voice as shaky as his hand as it raises up to the left side of Ignis’ face; thumb brushing over the scar under his damaged eye. “Who did this to you?”

“Don’t do this to yourself.” Ignis pleads.

He won’t relive his greatest failure, nor will he let Noct dwell on what has long since passed. He’d already thanked him, though he hadn’t needed to. Ignis doesn’t wish for more.

Noct shakes his head, hair tickling Ignis’ skin. “You never told me, but… I know.”

“Noct, please–”

“You were protecting me.”

“It was my own choice.”

“But it was for me.”

Ignis shakes his head, pushing the hand on his face away to bring his own up to Noct’s, palm to his cheek as fingers curl into the dark hair at his neck.

“I did it because you are everything to me, Noct. I would do it a hundred times over. But that doesn’t make it your fault, nor will it ever be your fault.”

“Not my fault, huh?” His tone is dissmissive, but he leans into Ignis’ hand, hugging tightly to rid themselves of any space between them and press their lips together.

“Then who did this one? Who left this scar? Who’s only going to make it worse?”

Ignis’ feels the press of a hand on him, over his heart, and he chokes.

His chest feels empty, sinking like an endless cavity he could never fill. A hollowness he’s come to know all to well over the years; one he will forever know again come dawn. Tears sting his eyes.

“You, Noct. It will always be you. And I doubt it will ever heal.”


	4. I never meant to hurt you

_I never meant to hurt you._

They’re six and eight when Noct first says it to him. They’d been out in the Citadel courtyard, hidden under the cover of night and overseen by a blanket of stars. Noct had been the one to drag them out, yet it was Ignis who bore the punishment and the reprimendation when they were caught. He refused to impliment Noct at all even though Noct is sure everyone knows it’s his fault.

But when Noct apologises to Ignis later that night, sniffling with tears in his eyes while recalling booming voices, Ignis only smiles and clasps his hands tightly between his own.

“It’s alright, Noct. I will never hate you, so please don’t cry.”

Their nighttime escapades continue, and each time Ignis takes the blame almost with pride, and consoles a distressed Noct that he will always be there for him.

Ignis never lies to him.

_I never meant to hurt you._

It’s Ignis who says it this time, staring at Noct with so much desperation Noct wants to forgive him on the spot. He’s only eighteen, but something about his posture, his eyes, reminds Noct of his father; worn and weighted upon. He hates it. He hates that he understands how that feels.

So Noct let’s him into his apartment, the argument from a few nights ago forgotten as they sit and eat together in a silence that bleeds solidarity.

Ignis came back, like he always does; not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Noct considers that a win, and perhaps one day they can fully understand each other again. It reassures him; makes him watch Ignis from under his bangs, feeling forlorn but hopeful. 

It’s not the right time for Noct to tell Ignis; to do what he’s wanted to do even as duty and expectation had frayed their friendship over the years. 

But soon, he thinks, he’ll tell him.

(He never gets the chance, but he thinks Ignis knows.)

_I never meant to hurt you._

Noct craddles Ignis in his arms, burnt skin rough under his fingers. Noct grinds his teeth to stop himself from screaming his name again and again. Ignis is crying, coughing up those words from his mouth like he has any right to be asking Noct’s forgiveness for this.

Noct doesn’t want to forgive him. He doesn’t need to. He just wants this to all be a nightmare he can wake up from. But Ignis is shaking against him, whimpering in unfathomable pain and digging desperate fingers into Noct’s arm. It’s painfully real. 

“Ignis, you idiot. Why would you… damn it.”

He slips the ring from Ignis’ finger and onto his own, and the power is both an ache and a familiar fire in his core. He knows this power; it is _his_ power, his birthright. One he’d onced despised but now calls upon freely, willingly.

And he’s going to use it to save Ignis; he won’t let anyone else die. Least of all him. Never him. 

_If you don’t want to hurt me, then live. Stay with me. Forever._

_I never meant to hurt you.  
_

Noct stares down at Ignis as he takes a knee before him, fist pressed over his heart, head bowed. As he calls him “Majesty” like the word was made to roll off his tongue for no one else but him.

He thinks of those words; thinks he should apologise for those ten years and how he knows he left an empty space in Ignis’ heart the day he left. But they’d made a silent promise before the crystal to see each other again, to fight back the darkness and see the dawn. 

Ignis would not accept an apology, nor does Noct feel he needs to give one anymore. They’d kept their promise. They’d both lived, and as Ignis finally raises his head and those beautiful eyes focus on him with adoration and pride, Noct melts.

He becons Ignis to him, kissing him like he’d otherwise drown without the feel of lips on his own, and finally, _finally_ says the words he’s longed to say since they were young. 

_I love you._

_I never meant to hurt you, and I never will again._


	5. That’s how the story goes

“So the gossip magazines think Ignis and I are dating.”

Prompto nearly spits up his drink. He manages to keep it in, which results in him choking and coughing instead, and Noct laughing at him as he flaps his hands, trying to clear his throat.

Finally, when he can breathe again, he says, “Are you serious? You and _Ignis_?”

Noct shrugs, flipping through a trashy magazine Prompto couldn’t have imagined him buying. 

“ _The prince has been caught in various endearing moments with his advisor to be and self-proclaimed chamberlain, Ignis Scientia.”_ Noct reads, bemused. “ _Intimate conversations, casual touches, suspiciously long looks; could this be love blooming for the young prince?”_

“Dude, really?”

“That’s how the story goes.”

That sounds… extremely amateurishly written but also just plain wierd. Prompto can’t even imagine it. He’s only had a handful of interactions with Ignis, but he finds the guy kind of stiff and unapproachable. At least to him. Noct tells a whole different story. Most of the time.

He’s about to comment when he catches sight of the candid photos plastered on the pages Noct is reading, and, admittedly, some of them do look…. kind of suggestive out of context, he guesses. Noct’s eyes flicker between the pictures, looking part disturbed by the invasion of privacy, but also… wistful? 

Huh. Interesting. “Well, I mean, none of it’s true so I’m sure this will all blow over in a few weeks. They’ll find something else to gossip about, right?”

Noct sighs deeply, slumping back into the couch. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you’re right, we’re not… together or anything like that.”

Prompto catches the way his thumb brushes absently over a picture of him and Ignis sitting tucked together on a park bench, some kind of hot drinks in hand and Ignis laughing openly at something Noctis has said. It’s serene and natural in a way Prompto has never quite noticed before. 

He watches Noct eye the photos, thinks back to all his half-assed responses when Prompto’s asked him about girls, how silently happy he is whenever he brings those homemade desserts Ignis makes to school, the way Noct is so relaxed when Ignis is simply _around_ …. and it all just kind of clicks.

“Oh my god, you have a crush on Ignis.”

“What the hell? No I don’t!”

But the pink rising up his cheeks and the wide eyes speak volumes. 


	6. I know it hurts

It stings. All around his eye; a sharp twinge followed by dull throbs. Sometimes it feels like he’s still on fire. But it comes and goes, lessens with each day, so he keeps it to himself. He already hates the other’s doting on him. He doesn’t want to give them more reason to.

Especially Noct. As Ignis sits alone in their sleeping compartment, he finds his mind wandering to Noct constantly. He thinks of the vision he’d seen at the altar, quaking to his very core at the thought of what it all means. The images that haunt his very dreams; make his hands shake with every step toward Noct’s destiny.

“You can just say it, you know.”

Ignis startles, sitting up straight. He hadn’t realized he’d been prodding adsently at his scars and he let’s his hand drop to the bed.

It’s the first time Noct had truly spoken to him in a long while.

He listens intently as Noct slides the door closed and comes to sit in the bed across from him.

“I know, Ignis. I know it hurts.”

Ignis manages a slight smile, but it makes his cheeks ache. He hasn’t had cause to smile in a long while. “Noct, I appreciate the concern, but I assure you–.”

A hand cups his face, thumb brushing under his scar. He freezes at the contact, heart thumping against his ribs. His words are lost and forgotten under the warm touch.

“Don’t give me that.” It sounds like a demand, but Noct makes it gently. “I don’t want you to lie to me. I’m worried about you. I know… I know I have no right to ask you this, given everything, but please don’t shut me out.”

It’s more than Ignis expected to hear, and more than he knows what to do with. He considers lying again, but he thinks again to those visions of Noct run through by a sword on the throne, to the burning of his eyes, to his pleas to the kings of yore for the power to protect. He owes Noct this kindness.

There is no time to lie. There is no time for pity. There is no time.

“Ignis,” Noct whispers, a breath away now. “Does it hurt?”

And Ignis crumbles, slumps forward until his head hits Noct’s shoulder and he’s digging fingers into his jacket.

“Yes,” He grits. “It hurts.”

He’s not talking about his eyes.


	7. Are you serious?

Noct doesn’t mean to hear, but he can’t bring himself to step back from the door and leave. Instead he leans carefully against the wall, ear nearly pressed flat to the cold metal to listen to the conversation happening in the room.

“You still haven’t told me what happened in Altissia,” Gladio is saying. His voice is gruff, but he sounds much calmer than when he and Noct had been arguing.

He strains a little to hear when Ignis sighs. He sounds tired. “I’ve told you what you needed to know. What more do you want me to say?”

“How about starting with what happened to your eyes? ‘Cause we found you and Noct half-dead and you still wouldn’t stop asking about him. And then all that crap about apologising to him and asking forgiveness. Damn it, do you have any idea how worried Prompto and I were when we found you two? We thought we’d lost you both!”

Noct swallows hard, hands trembling slighly at his sides. His throat has gone dry, tingling as anxiety creeps into his system. Ignis had been at the altar? What could he possibly feel he had to aplogise for?

Noct digs his nails into his arms as a shover runs down his spine. He hears a bed squeak; probably Ignis sitting down.

“There’s nothing more to say on the matter.” 

Noct disagrees, and clearly Gladio does too since he huffs.

“Bullshit. I know you. The ring was there. I saw it.”

 _The ring._ Noct’s breath hitches. 

“You used it, didn’t you?”

_No. No, no, no. Ignis can’t have…_

When Ignis doesn’t deny it, Noct crumbles. He hits the floor hard, ignoring the throb up his back while his hands fly to cover his mouth. 

Not the ring. Not the thing that’s cost the life of his father, and that Luna died to bring him.

Finally Ignis answers. “I did what was necessary. I used the ring’s power, and for that I payed a price; one I would gladly pay again to protect what matters to me more than anything else in this world.”

God, Noct can’t take this. He’s never doubted Ignis’ devotion, but to know the lengths he’s gone to, and the risks he’s taken, all for _him –_ he feels unworthy.

“You idiot.” Gladio groans, and for the first time in a long while, he and Noct agree on something. “Are you serious? What if you’d died? By all rights you should have. Do you know what that would have done to us? And what about Noct? Hell, it would have _killed_ him, Iggy.”

“I…” it isn’t often Ignis is speechless, and Noct hangs on the silence. He needs to hear this; he needs to know what Ignis is thinking. “I’m aware, but I couldn’t let him die. I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Gladio sighs like he’s resigned himself to Ignis’ stubborness. 

Meanwhile Noct is shaking, his mind racing to absorb everything and try and make sense of it. But all he feels is guilt; more guilt that he’s the cause of yet another person’s pain. 

He hadn’t even known; Ignis never lets himself take precidence over Noct. Would he have ever told Noct any of this? Likely not; he would have taken it to his grave.

“Iggy, I know how you feel about him, okay? But you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

How he feels? Something about those words weighs heavy, and Noct waits with baited breath.

“Gladio, I don’t need you to remind me of my duty, nor my place. I told you my feelings long ago in confidence; but don’t assume I’m without control. To stand at his side, my feelings are irrelevant.”

A scoff. “Irrelevant, huh? Being in love with him isn’t exactly irrelevant. You honestly think you would have done what you did otherwise? Or that you can ignore what you’re feeling? It’s going to effect you whether you like it or not. Don’t kid yourself.”

Noct stands abruptly. He stumbles back into the wall as his knees shake and a wave of dizziness hits him. Those words roll around in his head like a mantra.

_Love. Ignis is in love with me. He loves me._

“Gladio,” Ignis speaks quietly, trying to hide the fact he’s choking up. “I don’t… I will do my duty to the best of my ability. That includes keeping Noct safe and seeing him on the throne, no matter the cost. I will not let my personal feelings for him stand in his way. So I beg you, please, if nothing else, leave me my foolish heart.”

Noct should probably find it strange, maybe even uncomfortable, but he doesn’t. Not at all. Not even a little bit.

Instead, he thinks that it sort of makes sense, and his chest aches with a cavernous new sensation. His whole body shivers and he swipes a stray tear from his cheek as if it burns.

He’s terrified, because a huge part of him delights in the knowledge. Another large part of him wants to admit that he feels the same.

He wants to barge in and scream that he loves him too, that he doesn’t want Ignis to die for him, that he wants Ignis to be open and selfish and ask Noct for the world because he damn well deserves it for everything he’s done. He wants to be that guiding light for Ignis that leads him through the darkness.

But instead he spins on his heel and heads back down the hallway. He wasn’t supposed to hear this in the first place, and he doesn’t have the strength to face Ignis. Maybe later; one day. But not now.


	8. Please don’t say goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Depictions of Violence and Major Character Death

Noctis tries to say it to him, just once, during their last night together at camp. The words sit on his tongue, heavy as lead, and Ignis can almost imagine how he must be worrying his lip, and how his eyes glisten in the firelight. 

With a heart long sunk, Ignis lifts his hand and presses the pads of his fingers against Noctis’ lips, keeping the word stuck behind his teeth. The muscles under his hand pull and Ignis knows Noctis is looking at him with confusion, but even so he doesn’t resist, and then everything softens when he feels Noctis’ eyes on him, all melancholic and pitiful. 

He moves his hand just enough to push in close, to tease their lips together, and breathes quietly into the heat of Noctis’ mouth. In that moment, begging for the first time in a long time that he could see what lies before him, he takes in what he can of Noctis’ touch, his warmth, his breath ghosting across his skin. 

“Please, don’t say goodbye.”

So Noctis doesn’t. 

Instead he tries again, on the steps of the Citadel. Though Ignis can’t see him he can perfectly sense the tension rolling off Noctis as he turns to face them all, solemn yet determined. Even then, slick with rain and mussed from battle, he is every bit the king Ignis had hoped he’d be.

“You guys…”

Ignis moves instinctively, footsteps a harsh slap against wet stone as he ascends the few steps between them. He wonders if Noctis can feel the way his hands tremble as he cups his face ever so gently and draws him into a kiss. It’s feather-light, nothing but a faint brush of lips but it’s enough for Noctis to swallow his words, and he grips Ignis’ wrists and hold him close, clinging and desperate.

“Please,” Ignis whispers when he pulls back, fingers tangling into a few stray strands of dark hair as he leans their foreheads together. “Don’t say goodbye.”

Noct shakes his head. “This again. Why won’t you let me say it, just once?”

“There’s no need,” Is all Ignis says in return, and he steps back from Noctis’ comforting embrace into his usual cold loneliness. He draws a fist over his heart and bows, never having been so sincere in it’s meaning as now. “Godspeed, and take care. Majesty.”

“Walk tall, my friends.”

Ignis thinks of those words even now as he and Gladio and Prompto fight the hordes of daemons, summoned by the twisted collection of darkness and magic that hums in the air. They are relentless as they sense their own demise coming closer.

He fights for his king, his love, his light. Yet it’s laboured and reckless and wild, with no attempts to dodge or block; not at all his usual self. Ignis almost laughs bitterly with each new wound that appears, and blood stains his arms and back and legs, and his clothes tear and bruises bloom. 

Even so he sinks his daggers like deadly fangs into each monster, ripping them to shreds like a man possessed. Muscles scream, bones creak, joints strain, and he’s sure by now he’s at the point of no return. Even so he moves carelessly with no regard for himself, feeling hollow and empty, his body moving on its own. Yes, this is what he wants; a fight to the death. 

He doesn’t feel it anymore–the fire in him has burned out. Noctis has taken his heart to the beyond, and has simply left his body behind to flail and flounder uselessly. One final battle, and then he can rest.

Gladio calls his name but Ignis hears it like he’s underwater, and he denies his instincts even as his body tingles and begs him to move, to lift his blades and block. Instead he freezes and he’s struck violently by the fist of an iron giant. Wind whips in his ears as he sails through the air, until he’s falling and his back strikes the ground hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs and rattle his bones. Despite his training he makes no attempt to tuck in his head and instead let’s it crack painfully against the stone, ears ringing and blood pooling in his mouth. His body is mangled, torn apart, weak.

Simple stubborn determination is what drags him back to his feet. He stumbled back against a wall clutching at his sides, heaving painful breathes and his skin wet with sweat and rain and blood. Broken ribs, broken leg, cracked spine, fractured wrist, severe internal bleeding, head injury.

 _Good_ , Ignis finds himself thinking, even as his shaking body lists sideways and his thoughts strain for clarity through the haze. He’s fought this far, he’s suffered the wounds of war. He’s honoured his oath; he is no coward. He has known no fear. 

No, perhaps he’d known one: a destiny he could not abate, a man he could not save.

Large lumbering footsteps approach and the ground quakes with them. Again he hears his name yelled frantically, and the crackle of gunfire, but it’s so distant and he’s grateful. This is enough. This is what he’d planned for–what he’d wanted.

Something snaps inside him like a line being severed, and he nearly crumbles as he feels it go limp, as if that alone was holding him up. Perhaps it was, and he tries to scream but all that escapes his ravaged throat is a pained whimper.

Noctis is gone; he’s done it. It won’t be long now until the dawn turns these vile creatures to ash. There’s a distinct void inside him where once there was magic, an irreplaceable ache. It’s about all Ignis can feel now that his body has gone numb. 

The iron giant looms above him. Ignis’ mouth cracks into a sick grin even as tears well in his eyes, and he turns his head upwards. Rain drips down his cold skin, his tears fall, and he inhales deeply, awaiting the final blow.

Finally he’s free of the shackles of his failure. He wants this end; an end worthy of a soul lost to the abyss, worthy of being remembered at his liege’s side. 

_Please don’t say goodbye_ , he’d told Noctis. If only he’d had the courage to say more.

_Please don’t say goodbye, for there is no need. I promised I’d be with you–to the very end. Wherever you should go, know that I will follow._

A blade falls. The dawn comes.


	9. Be you. No one else can

It’s been a few hours now, and between the constant idle chatter between various delegates from foreign lands and the deep thrumming music, Ignis can feel a headache beginning to bloom behind his eyes. Even with all his training, his classes in etiquette and how to properly speak with nobles and politicians alike, he’s finding the trite conversation more and more grating. 

It’s a simple affair; a gala hosted every year by King Regis to sustain relations with the higher class families and people of influence from Lucis and Accordo. Niflheim, not surprisingly, has declined the invitation this time around. 

The great hall is dazzling, lit up in yellowish light reflecting off the crystal chandeliers and tall glass doors leading outside. Bright ribbons encircle the marble pillars of the hall and dip along the walls, while flowery fixtures and stone statuettes line the empty spaces around the room, and an open space is kept in the centre of the room to accommodate couples as they dance to the slow waltz brought to life by the orchestra. Others sit at tables or stand in small groups discussing all sorts of subjects from political to personal to gossip, creating a constant drone of noise.

A table lined with silver platters of food and wine flutes sits off to one side, something Ignis has been indulging in all night, despite his usual distaste for wine. It makes him look more mature than he should at nineteen; more fit for his station and for _polite_ conversation, though it’s probably only adding to the growing thumping of his head. 

He’s more envious though, because whereas Ignis has been manoeuvring through dialogues all evening on his own behalf and that of his prince, Noct himself seems to have escaped. Ignis hasn’t seen him much since his initial introduction at Regis’ side, but now the king is in the midst of a conversation with a representative from Altissia, and Noct has vanished. 

Ignis downs the last of his drink in one go as if that would make things better rather than worse. It’s not all a total loss though, because as he makes his way over to the table to set his glass down, he catches the dark form slumped against the wall, half concealed by a pillar with his hands thrust into the pockets of his black dress pants.

Noct is bored; absolutely miserable-looking, practically glaring daggers at anyone who looks as if they’re even _thinking_ of approaching, and Ignis sighs through his nose, though his lips tug into a grin despite himself. It’s unbecoming of a prince, yet it is so very _Noct_ that Ignis can’t be entirely upset. He’s gotten better at socializing, but Ignis can’t fault him for having hit his limit, though he hopes Noct has at least attempted to dance and talk with a few nobles to keep up appearances.

He’s hopeful he can avoid Noct’s ire as he sidles up next to him and leans against the wall, keeping his eyes on the crowd, watching the swaying of men in dark suits and women in stunning dresses as they dance. 

“Come to tell me off?” Noct mumbles, almost pouting as he slouches more into the wall like he’s hoping it will swallow him whole. “Drag me back into ‘ _polite society_ ’?”

Ignis tilts his head slightly to look at him. “No, I simply wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Noct seems to think on that for a moment, and his fingers fidget in his pockets like he’s not sure if he wants to be honest or not. Ignis waits patiently, trying not to be enraptured by the way Noct’s teeth dig into his plush lower lip.

“I’m just… tired. My back hurts a little, too. I’ve danced with three girls who I’m pretty sure all think they’re in love with me now. Then I had to talk to some old guy who was trying to ask me about agricultural degradation in Leide or something. Like I know anything about that.”

“You might if you read the reports I gave you,” Ignis keeps his voice light, nudging Noct’s arm with his elbow. “But I can see you’ve had a long night.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Noct says suddenly, almost pleading like he thinks Ignis is _disappointed_ with him. “I really am. It’s just… people keep asking me about the war and my dad and _marriage_ –”

Ignis winces at the word, trying to snuff out the ugly way it makes his stomach twist. He needs to listen, to support, not to let his own feelings overwhelm him. 

Noct sighs loudly and his whole body bends with the force, and he rubs anxiously at the back of his neck as he stares out at the crowds of people. “I’m still no good at this. I don’t know what to do for these things. Like, what am I supposed to say? Who am I supposed to be? The prince? An adult? A diplomat?”

“Just be _you_.” Ignis is quick to say, calm but firm as he faces Noct fully now and tries to meet the despairing blue of his eyes. It’s all Ignis knows to do. “No one else can. All anyone can ask of you is your honesty. Just stay true to yourself, and I, in turn, shall stay true to you.”

He’s treading dangerous waters here, but to see Noct so dejected and worn outfills Ignis with sympathy because he _knows_ Noct is trying, and he _has_ been improving, albeit slowly. Noct needs to be a leader and a ruler one day, and though Ignis refuses to let him shirk his duties, he doesn’t ever again wish to make Noct feel like he is a tool rather than a person.

The struggle for _himself_ , it seems, is keeping his heart in check.

Thankfully Noct meets his gaze this time, eyes practically glowing as they search for the sincerity in Ignis’ face, but the crease in his brow lessens meaning he must find it. Just barely, he smiles, and there’s a small bit of renewed vigour behind the weariness of his features. 

“Yeah… thanks Ignis.”

Ignis smiles and bows his head, but he barely manages to turn before there’s a warm touch sliding against his palm, and fingers wrap around his hand. His feet feel glued to the spot as he faces Noct again and watches his eyes flickering between Ignis’ face and the floor. There’s a subtle flush across his cheeks. 

“Noct…?”

Then he’s being pulled away from the wall, from their quiet secluded hiding spot and out into the open. Ignis can hear the people around them murmuring as Noct weaves through the crowd, holding tightly to his hand. In his chest his heart beats wildly, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing at his glasses as his headache flares. He hopes his embarrassment isn’t too obvious on his face as he’s pulled along by the hand.

“Noct, where are we going?”

Suddenly they’re free of the crowd of warm bodies and Noct spins surprisingly gracefully on his heel to face Ignis. Lifting their joined hands he gives a formal little bow before pressing his lips softly to Ignis’ knuckles, leaving a searing bit of heat that has Ignis’ heart leaping into his throat at the intimacy and the _scandal_ they’re surely causing. How many hearts did Noct just break with that one move? 

Stretching their joined hands out, Noct places the other gently on Ignis’ hip, and he pulls him in until there’s only a breath of space between them. If Ignis wasn’t blushing before he certainly is now because Noct is _right there_ , so very close and staring up at him intensely, both nervous and eager. 

“Dance with me,” he mumbles, and he pulls them into the throng of other dancers, leading Ignis into the steps and Ignis follows his lead by sheer instinct because his mind is still trying to catch up. 

There’s a searing heat between them as their breath mingles and their chests bump while they move with the slow sway of the music, and Ignis burns feeling the eyes of so many people on them. When he looks down to Noct there’s a smile gracing his lips now, his eyes shining as he meets Ignis’ stunned expression. Fingers dig into Ignis’ hand and waist a little tighter, and finally he loosens up enough to rest his hand on Noct’s shoulder.

“Noct, what are we doing?”

“Dancing.” Noct says, then sucks in a breath nervously. “You said to be myself, well… this is what I want to do.”

Well then… there’s a tingle across Ignis’ skin at the words, and a pleasant warmth alights in his chest. He smiles wide, feeling like he can no longer contain himself, and the tension in Noct’s shoulders dissipates when he realizes Ignis is neither upset nor has any intention of pulling away.

This is surely a dream; something so innocent but so precious a moment to be anything Ignis could ever dare to hope for. 

Yet he never awakens because this is very much _real_ , and Noct keeps himself tucked close as they move together to ground him in the moment. Together they fall into a rhythm so fluid until finally Ignis can forget where they are, and he sees nothing but Noct’s face, alive with joy for the first time that night as the music pulls them along with it’s sweet melody.

Just for the moment, Ignis forgets about propriety, about appearances, about anything but Noct’s familiar presence pressed so close, breaking down all of his walls and making him doubt every excuse he’s ever made to ignore the pull Noct has on him. 

His heart feels so full–set to burst. It’s been a while since he’s felt so content and at ease, and it’s all thanks to Noct, as it so very often is.

At some point Noct leans his head against Ignis’ shoulder and seamlessly Ignis is suddenly in the lead, fingers weaving with Noct’s as he hugs him into his body. He can blame the wine later for the ease with which he rest his cheek against the dark locks of Noct’s hair and sighs contently. They sway together, dancing the night away without a care in the world. 


	10. Take my jacket. It’s cold outside

A familiar tingle of restlessness crawls under his skin and his throat tightens, and Noct wishes he was alone. It would make sneaking out in the middle of the night a lot easier.

He hates that he gets like this sometimes. This creeping anxiety that settles in his bones and twists his stomach and makes lights flash behind his eyelids every time he closes his eyes to the point that sleep sounds like a cruel joke. At times like this where he suddenly feels so overwhelmed he could cry at the drop of a hat and he wants to be anywhere but cooped up in his room. He’s made a habit of sneaking out to the roof of his apartment building, or sometimes all the way down to the park when he needs to just get away, not that he tells anyone because surely it’d just cause problems.

He thinks maybe Ignis knows though, somehow, because Ignis _always_ knows. As Noct tries his best to pad softly across the wood floors to the door, eyeing the cold autumn night outside the window wistfully, Ignis stirs from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch that night, thoroughly exhausted from a long day of meetings only to insist on coming over to Noct’s apartment anyways.

“Noct?”

Shit. Noct freezes in the middle of shoving his foot into his boot, but Ignis is already sitting up, the blanket Noct had dropped over him slipping off to pool at his waist. He twists his shoulders to face Noct with an arm over the back of the couch, fixing his glasses and brushing fingers through his hair.

“Go back to sleep, Specs. It’s fine.”

A beat of silence, and Noct still can’t move because he can practically feel Ignis watching him, thinking, _analyzing_.

“You’re going out? At this time of night?”

His body is shaking a bit, a familiar pressure behind his eyes. He doesn’t want to do this in front of Ignis. His head is fuzzy, heart pounding and he feels like he wants to crawl out of his own skin.

“I just… need to get out of here. I won’t go far, I promise.”

Surely Ignis knows, or at least has an idea of what this is, but Noct can’t quite see his face well enough in the dark to know what he’s thinking. 

“Would you like me to come with you?” Ignis asks, his voice smooth and calm, not at all the scolding Noct is half-expecting. 

He stares at the ground, fiddling with the hem of his sleep shirt and almost feels guilty because Ignis sounds so understanding and Noct is just… like this. “No, no. I think I need to be alone for a bit.”

It’s always harder, dealing with this around people. He feels like a drain, like he’s being difficult, even if he’s continuously assured this isn’t his fault. Being with people when he’s like this, he just feels crowded,embarrassed, and it’s harder to drop his walls and just let himself fall apart the way he needs to.

Ignis sighs and stands, as graceful as ever as he approaches Noct slowly like he’s afraid of startling him. As he passes the kitchen table he grabs the heavy leather jacket he’d hung over the back of one of the chairs that evening. Noct keeps his head ducked until Ignis’ chest is in his peripheral and he’s staring down at his feet. He’s a familiar heat around him that Noct almost leans into before he remembers himself, and just stays frozen as his heart thumps against his ribs. He _really_ doesn’t have the energy to deal with his mixed up feelings about Ignis on top of how he’s feeling right now.

A weight settles over his shoulders and Noct finally lifts his head as heavy leather hugs his frame, his arms folding to dig fingers into the lapels and hold it to his body instinctively. 

“Take my jacket. It’s cold outside.”

Noct flushes despite himself, but Ignis pulls him in close before he can meet his eyes. Instead Noct’s head sinks into the crook of his neck, Ignis using one arm to hug him close around the waist while the other hand cups his head, fingers carding through a few stray strands of hair. It’s almost suffocating, scolding hot, and surely Ignis can feel the way Noct’s body trembles and his muscles are rigid, but he says nothing, and Noct has never been more grateful.

“I’ll…”Noct mutters, inhaling the remains of a subtle cologne across Ignis’ skin–a small thing that serves to quell his nerves a bit. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

Maybe he imagines the feather-light press of lips to the crown of his head, he’s not sure. But he hears Ignis voice, a deep resounding vibration so close that Noct can practically feel it when Ignis says, “I know. Be safe. And should you ever wish to talk…”

Noct sighs, and for just this one moment, he let’s his heart take over. He slips his arms around to hug Ignis’ middle, fingers clinging to his shirt and his head tucked close into his skin. Through the hair falling over his eyes he follows Ignis’ jawline until he’s staring at the smooth bend of his lips. Noct could kiss him like this, really, and though Noct wouldn’t dare do it now, he isn’t so afraid of the idea anymore.

“I know. You’ll be here. Thanks, Ignis.”


	11. Come with me

He’s thought about it so many times.

Ten long years wading through an endless darkness, a crushed heart, a resolve slowly bleeding out as more and more he turned up with no answers to speak of. Then, there at the back of his mind it festered; his last resort, his last ditch effort to save Noct–and himself–from the seemingly undeniable will of the gods.

It comes to him now like a tantalizing whisper as Noct takes his hand between his own, and even without his sight Ignis can feel the heat of his gaze, warm and loving, so heavy that the tears welling in his eyes finally roll down his cheeks.

If Noct would not let Ignis go with him, then perhaps…

“You could come with me.”

Fingers tense around his hand, a hitched breath just barely audible to Ignis’ attuned ears.

“What do you mean?”

Ignis squeezes his hand, bringing his other up to clasp around Noct’s wrist, as if he can anchor him to this moment; defy those who would tear Noct from him. Yet he quakes under the weight of knowing what is to come.

Of knowing what Noct will say, even before Ignis has had the foolhardy will to ask it.

“We could leave here; disappear. Together.”

“Ignis–”

“I can’t lose you,” He pleads, and his voice cracks at the same moment as his heart. “Not again.”

A sigh, not of frustration but pity, and Noct pulls his hands back. For a fleeting moment Ignis panics with the sudden emptiness, reaching out, chasing after that touch as if he’s a child again, worriedly grasping for his parents. But then Noct is there, all around him, burning like a furnace as he hugs him close, fingers digging into the back of his shirt like it’s Noct who’s afraid of losing Ignis.

“Ignis, we’d be dooming the world. I know that’s not what you want, not really.”

Is it not? It’s shameful to say he’s thought it many times before now. Would he forsake the world to see Noct safe and happy? Maybe he would–he isn’t sure how long ago his heart took over his rationale, something he’d spent so much of his formative years trying to prevent. He never was as good at it as he lead others to believe.

“Please, Noct,” his voice is so raw it barely escapes his throat, but with Noct tucked so close he breathes the words into his ear like a secret passed between lovers; perhaps in a way it is. “Come with me, I beg you. We can escape this; you won’t have to suffer at the hands of gods who weigh lives so cheaply.”

There’s a thumping through his chest, but it’s impossible to tell if it’s his heart or Noct’s that’s beating in a frenzy. Tension hangs so thick in the air that it’s almost suffocating. Ignis hears nothing but the shallow breathing in his ear, the crackling of fire, the winds rustling the dead grass all around the camp, the distant growl of daemons that stalk the night.

Hair tickles across his neck as Noct pulls his head back, but his arms stay locked around Ignis’ waist, cradled strong and tight.

“The world has survived the darkness this long.” Ignis says before he can bear to let Noct talk him back to his senses. “It doesn’t need a hero, and certainly not a tragedy. You’re worth more than what the gods have made of you.”

“Ignis…” A crack in his voice; he’s crying, and like a moth to a flame Ignis brings his hand up to cup the side of Noct’s face with practised precision. Gently he draws his thumb just under his eye, wiping the offending wetness away.

He says it again, hoping maybe he can drive it through Noct’s very core until he believes nothing else. “Come with me. We can escape all this and live free. Come with me, Noct. Come with me and live.”

One of Noct’s hands leaves his waist and Ignis feels it press to the back of his hand against Noct’s cheek, fingers curling around to pry his touch away slowly.

A kiss, presses achingly light against Ignis’ palm, and Noct’s sharp inhale against the pads of his fingers. In the silence Ignis waits with baited breath and his mask of indifference crushed to dust under his own heel.

Once again he feels Noct’s eyes on him, as he always does–piercing and powerful.

“It sounds so simple when you say it like that. It would be so easy… I made my peace, I was ready to die.”

Ignis’ forces his breath out slowly. “Noct…”

“But not once did anyone ever ask me… if I wanted to live.”

A foolish mistake–one Ignis is desperate to rectify.

Just like that their hands are pulled apart and Ignis feels Noct’s head thump against his shoulder so hard it makes him stumble. Without hesitation Ignis curls an arm around his middle while the other hand slides up into the hair at the back of Noct’s head.

It’s longer than before, Ignis thinks to himself as he massages soothing circles into Noct’s scalp as he keeps him close, a mirror of how they used to curl up together as children. Noct’s fingers cling to the front of his’ shirt, and for all Ignis knows he could be holding a young Noct again, afraid of his nightmares or desperate for his father.

If only things were still so innocent.

“Noct, do you want to live?”

A pause; too long, too heavy. But then, muffled into his shirt he hears, “Yeah, I do.”

Something falls from Ignis’ shoulders then, and suddenly his body is lighter than it’s been in years. He smiles despite himself and his hold on Noct tightens just slightly, his blood pounding in his ears.

He’s giving Noct the choice he never had–the option to do what he’d never dared to hope for. His way out.

“Then come with me, Noct.”


	12. When I’m with you, I’m home

It’s been a few days since his return, and as Noct sits on the rocks of their haven under a sea of sickly blackness overlooking the decayed Insomnia skyline, he’s practically vibrating with anxious energy, and he’s restless. He wonders if the others have noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

Certainly Ignis must have, at least, because he’s still sitting over in a chair by the fire, tapping away on his phone and feigning indifference when it’s clear he’s keeping an eye on Noct (figuratively speaking) even after the others have gone to sleep. Noct has given up trying to convince him he’s fine, though neither has really breached the subject of tension yet.

Even after so much time, so much preparation for what’s to come, there’s a pit in his stomach–a hole inside as if his heart has sunken into his chest. He hasn’t cried, hasn’t done much of anything but plan since his return. Yet since he’s awoken there’s been that niggling sense of foreboding, and his throat still feels tight, his muscles are tense, and there’s that pressure behind his eyes like at any moment he’s set to burst.

It’s not just sadness, though. He’s angry. He’s tired. He’s ready to take the fight to Ardyn if it means ending the suffering and the darkness, and avenging the people he’s lost…

“Aren’t you angry? Or… sad, at least?”

His voice fractures the uneasy quiet, but there’s no immediate reply. Noct almost thinks maybe he hasn’t spoken it aloud. He hears nothing but the crackling of fire that sets a gently consistent heat at his back, and smothered beneath it is the chirping of crickets. Wind rustles the grass, blows Noct’s bangs into his face, sends a shiver up his spine despite the humidity.

Then there’s a deep breath, shoes scuffing against rock–footsteps. Even so Noct jumps when Ignis sits down next to him, legs folded and their shoulders touching as he becomes like a warm wall at Noct’s side, creating a small amount of comfort to break the distance he’s felt between them the last few days.

“I am, as are we all. We’re.. prepared for the end, but it hasn’t been easy for any of us.”

“You don’t show it.” Noct huffs and tucks his knees up, dropping his folded arms over them as he stares out into the dark. His vision is swallowed by the darkness until he’s almost dizzy. “I’m going to die, Ignis.”

Noct is almost, in some morbid way, relieved when Ignis goes still beside him. He hasn’t said so much as a word about the prophecy since Noct returned, except to help him fulfill it, something Noct knows is eating away at him.

When he’d told them, they’d all cried. Then Ignis had gone quiet, all the life drained from him, and yet there was something in his face, in the relieved slump of his shoulders that told Noct that, maybe somehow, Ignis knew what was coming. But then he’d said nothing, done nothing, kept his distance. If he didn’t want to talk about it fine, but it felt like Noct had suddenly lost him to the darkness again; made him feel as distant as they had been so many years ago after Altissia.

Now though, Ignis’ posture goes straight, and he keeps his voice level and detached. “I know.”

There it is; that calmness. Noct groans and slumps sideways, head thumping hard against Ignis’ shoulder. The dull throb across his temple doesn’t bother him, but what does is that that is all Ignis ever says on the matter, if he says anything at all.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Noct mumbles tersely. He’s biting his lip to stifle his frustration, though he’s sure Ignis can sense it nonetheless.

“More than you could ever know.”

“Really? Then why don’t you act like it? Come on, Ignis, we’re going to bring back the light, but I have to die to do it. I’ve accepted that, but you… why don’t you get angry? Why don’t you seem even a little bit upset? Damn it, Ignis–”

“Noct.”

His voice is stern, hard, and for the first time since Ignis sat down, Noct is compelled by the harshness of that one word to finally look at him; to really look.

It’s there, in the blazing fire of his dulled eyes, in the rigid line of his clenched jaw. Ignis’ hands are rested on his knees, but Noct’s eyes slide down the length of his arms and finds his fingers have curled into fists, so tight Noct knows his skin is nearly white under his gloves. He’s not the soft comfort Noct is used to, he’s all hard muscles and sharp edges, trembling slightly from the tension.

Somewhere just under the surface, Ignis is a raging hurricane of emotions.

“Ignis, I…”

He keeps his head bowed and rests it back on Ignis’ shoulder like some lame attempt at comfort. There’s a boiling pit of shame coming alive inside him. Of course Ignis is upset, it’s stupid to think he wouldn’t be.

“I’m losing someone I love,” Ignis says slowly, too gently for how murderous he looks, but even so Noct slumps into the arm that rises to curl around his lower back, and keens at the fingers that dig reassuringly–almost possessively–into his hip. “To bring back the light, you would think that would be enough. But not for me; never for me. What I want is to see you succeed, to show Ardyn no mercy, and end this long night.”

“Won’t argue with that.” Noct says dryly, too worn out to say anything else.

Ignis sighs heavily, the hardness of his body falling away until Noct can sink into his side fully. “I can feel that loss already; deeply. But I can’t ask you to forsake the world to protect my own heart or yours, even if I have half a mind to do so. It’s not that I’m not upset, Noct, it’s that I’m trying to look ahead, for fear of my past failures, and of what I’d do now, given the chance to save you one more time.”

There’s a dryness in Noct’s mouth, something burning in his throat but the words won’t come. When he squeezes his eyes shut all he is aware of is the violent rushing of blood in his ears and the aching pound of his heart against his ribs.

How can Ignis be so calm and rational? Noct is supposed to be the one to say things like that, and yet he can’t make the words come. There’s so many feelings trapped behind his teeth, so many doubts, so many lost moments he wants to have back.

Right now, Ignis is more like Regis–like a king–than even Noct feels himself to be.

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Not that Noct is sure what he’s apologizing for. He can’t stop his fate, and Ignis would never let him shoulder that blame. So instead he forces himself to smile, just a little. “We lost our friends, our families, our home… We’re going to take it back once and for all. I guess it’s not so bad, dying for something like that.”

There’s a long pause, and it leaves Noct more time to wade through the haziness of his own mind, filled with anxiety and anger and desperation. Fancy words to hide his trepidation, and the fear coiled around his determination. His body is thrumming, and he clenches his fingers, curls his toes, tries to ignore the way anxiety makes his skin tingle and his insides twist and turn.

But then Ignis hugs him a little tighter, fingers curling almost teasingly into the skin just under his shirt, and there’s a gentle press of lips against the top of his head, and Noct is surrounded by the woodsy scent of cologne and spices, a radiating warmth against the cool night air, the tickling breath across his skin. It’s like waking from a dream, and just for a moment Noct can breathe normally again, and his thoughts go quiet just as his body goes slack, pillowed against the man who’s always cherished him so thoroughly. He lets himself be held, calmed, embraced; let’s himself have the things he’s had to go without for too long.

“We’re going home. But Noct, you must understand… I have lived almost my entire life at your side. I have cherished that time, and never once have I regretted it. We’ve lost so much, but I’ve never truly been without I home. Because when I’m with you, I’m home. You are everything to me, and I’m proud of what you’ve become. Know that I will stay by your side until the end. But even so, losing you now… I feel that loss more than anyone, or anything else in my life. I doubt I’ll ever know a home, or peace, more than I do when you’re here with me.”

It’s a lot to take in, and in the quiet of the night that surrounds them Noct wonders if Ignis can hear how those words have sent his heart into a throbbing frenzy. Those words, so full of genuine feeling and a heartfelt ease with which Noct has never been able to muster; they mean the world to him.

It’s an assurance he didn’t know he needed, a comfort he’d longed for, from the one person he’s had at his side the longest, who had always been Noct’s immediate source of support, comfort, and companionship. How Ignis can say such embarrassing yet honest things is just another trait Noct envies him for.

To know that to Ignis, Noct is his home now, and has always been… his insides flutter knowing he’s not alone, and that he matters so greatly to someone. He’d actually forgotten who he is to his friends, to Ignis, to the world. Yet he would never forget who his friends are to him.

So he takes those words in, let’s them rattle around his head and drive out the incessant chatter of his darker thoughts. Because Ignis is right; they have each other, until the very end. The anger and loss they feel will drive them to take back what they lost, and fulfill his destiny as king. As long as they’re together, for as long as the gods and time and the world will allow it.

Noct likes the sound of that, now that he’s allowing himself to admit that he’d rather have his friends here rather that far away, safe or not. Because they need each other–and if he is home to Ignis, then so too is Ignis home to him.

Even if he can’t make his tongue form the words he wants so desperately to say, he’s sure Ignis knows, and he doesn’t push for more. So Noct only tucks himself closer to Ignis’ side, feeling another kiss pressed tenderly into his hair and the arm around him pulling him in tighter. Noct slips his hand down until it rests on Ignis’ knee, lacing their fingers together and squeezing as if to remind Ignis that for now, he is here, and they’re together, and even when the light comes and the dust settles, Noct will be with him, in his heart.

Time is running out, and Noct pretends he doesn’t feel the thumb rubbing over the back on his hand, or the wetness slipping down from Ignis’ eyes into his hair, or the way he’s held impossibly close as if Ignis believes he could single-handedly keep Noct from the clutches of destiny. It’s a nice thought, one Noct wishes, deep down, could be true. He let’s his eyelids slip closed, and let’s this moment settle inside him–a dream he can take with him to the beyond.

For now, just in this moment, he allows his heart to beat just a bit lighter.


	13. You’ve shown me what love can feel like

In a way it’s still odd, Ignis thinks, to see Noctis now, sat upon the thrown he’d fought so hard for with an air of regal poise to him Ignis has seldom seen. He bows and salutes with a fist over his heart, feeling Noctis’ eyes on him the whole time.

“Your Majesty.”

The words roll off his tongue easily, Ignis having waited so long to speak them as proudly he does now, for no one but his king–for Noctis.

It warms him like a satisfying heat thrumming all through his core until he’s nearly shaking with a kind of giddy excitement.The weight burdening him lifts from his shoulders after so many long years, until he thinks he might just float away for how light he feels.

Finally, finally they’ve done it, and the near blinding light of the sun shines through the great hall serves as a reminder to Ignis that everything he’d fought for, that they’d all fought for, was not for nothing. Because Noctis is here, and he’s alive, and Ignis never again will have to live without him at his side.

“Ignis.”

A single word echoing through the throne room, and when Ignis lifts his head at the deep resonance of his own name, he is drawn up the steps of the dais by Noctis’ outstretched and beckoning hand.

He goes willingly, all grace and finesse despite the way his rapidly beating heart rattles him. Noctis’ stormy eyes follow him as he ascends the steps, a smile creeping across his lips as Ignis comes to stand before him. With a swift swing of his hand Ignis draws the tail of his coat back and kneels before Noctis, as he feels is only right.

Noctis sighs, obviously bemused. “I didn’t ask you up here just to make you kneel at my feet. Come on Ignis, really.”

“Of course not,” Ignis chuckles. “Simply a formality, one I’m happy to deliver.”

“It’s weird.”

“It’s proper, your Majesty.”

Noctis leans forward then, and his posture slumps, and just like that it’s not the king, but rather it’s just Noct. With the air of royalty dropped he’s just the boy–the man–Ignis has always known, and he knows better than anyone else. A man so burdened and compassionate and wistful that Ignis can do nothing but love him with all the intense ferocity of the stars.

An air of foreboding sinks over the room when Ignis meets Noctis’ gaze again, and it’s saddened, almost pitiful. The smile on his face slips until Noctis looks more uncomfortable than happy. For a brief moment Ignis panics and dread sinks into his stomach like a stone. The cold wash of reality hits him, drawing up fears that perhaps something has happened, perhaps he’d failed after all, perhaps Noctis is about to be ripped from his grasp once more.

But instead Noctis reaches down and takes Ignis’ hand between his own, drawing it up until it’s not quite touching his lips, but close enough Ignis can feel the heat of his breath through the leather of his gloves.

“We never talked about what happened at Zegnautus,” Noct says quietly, his words chosen carefully, and Ignis’ full attention is in the moment now as a chill runs down his spine.

It was a memory of agony and loss and anger… the moment he’d seemingly won against the darkness, yet lost his light in the same instance. Ignis opens his mouth but finds he’s not sure what to say, and the distress must show on his face because Noctis shakes his head and squeezes his hand, as if asking that Ignis simply listen. So he does.

“When I was in the crystal, absorbing all that magic, all that power, I saw a lot of things. I heard a lot of things too, some of which I’m not even sure was real.”

Noctis swallows thickly, his fingers squeezing again. Ignis isn’t sure if the trembling he feels is Noctis’ hand or his own.

“I saw you. When you used the ring. I heard what you said, I watched you fight, I… watched you almost kill yourself to save me. I watched you burn, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t…”

Ignis can’t bear to meet Noct’s gaze, even as he feels those piercing eyes searching for him. He doesn’t regret his actions, yet there’s a sense of shame, a feeling that he could have done more, somehow. A wish that he could have spared Noctis the pain of nearly losing someone else.

“And… I saw what could have been, too.” Noctis says then, and that’s enough of a jolt to draw Ignis’ eyes back up.

“The prophecy…”

“My death.” Noctis’ voice is firm but there’s still a slight stutter over the word, a foreign and terrifying idea to roll off his own tongue. “I saw it, and it was… more like a nightmare. I know you saw it too, that day in Altissia.”

“I saw what the gods intended for you,” Ignis says truthfully, though even now after it’s passed, it still haunts his memories; still scares him deeply.

“That day when we found you at the Keep,” Noctis’ voice is tighter now. “I thought… I thought I was too late. I was so scared of losing you, and it hurt more than I can describe; so much I scared myself. It was so easy to make the decision then, to use the ring and the crystal. I didn’t want to lose you, or anyone else.”

Despite the cold splash of reality that makes guilt coil in Ignis’ heart, Noctis’ smile actually returns just a bit. It’s as if the room brightens with it. “Sometimes I wish I could hate you for doing that to yourself, for trying to trade your life for mine, but I can’t, because.. I understand, I get it now. And besides, you did it, you changed the prophecy; you defied fate.”

“I simply made a choice, nothing more.” Ignis says in reply, because that’s all that day has ever been to him; a reckless yet honourable choice, made out of fear and fury and love. A desperate hope that he could find a better way. He’s never thought about in such grandiose terms; he isn’t a hero, he just… loves Noctis too much to let the world tear them apart.

With a shake of his head Noctis drops Ignis’ hand only to reach out, brushing calloused fingers along Ignis’ skin and gently cradling his face. There’s a tenderness to the touch that Ignis has longed for over countless years, yearning for it in the silent depths of his heart even as he maintained distance and formality on the outside.

Noctis too has never been prone to this kind of embrace, yet he touches Ignis now like it’s second nature, an instinctive need to feel him; and Ignis can only crumble and succumb to his own desperate desire to have this; his want for this closeness after so many years denying himself the chance.

He leans his head just slightly into Noctis’ palms, and hums deep in his throat as a thumb brushed just under his left eye. Something unreadable flashes across Noctis’ face for a second, but it’s gone before Ignis can even wonder what it is he’s thinking.

“You have no idea what you really did, Ignis.” Noctis mutters, barely above a whisper as he continues to stroke the skin over Ignis’ brow, along his cheekbone, down his cheek. His eyes follow some unforeseen shape but Ignis saw the visions too, he knows what it is Noctis is lamenting; their intended fate. But it’s easy to forget the flashes of dulled eyes and scars with Noctis so close like this. That eerie dread seeps away soon enough and Ignis is lost in the soft touch, the soothing pulse he can feel though Noctis’ probing fingers.

“You changed everything. The ring, Ardyn, everything you guys did over these last ten years…You saved me, and I… I don’t think I can ever thank you enough.”

Ignis’ eyes flutter closed and he breathes deeply. A cold air replaces the warmth along his skin as Ignis pries Noctis’ hands from his face gently. He presses a kiss into one of his palms, smiling just a bit when he hears a nearly inaudible hitch in Noctis’ breathing.

“I didn’t do it for your thanks, Noct. I did it for you. Because I would sooner die than walk this world without you, or see you come to harm. Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I… I couldn’t bear to lose you, Noct.”

“I know,” Noctis’ voice is rasping, as if he’s choking up. It makes something twist in Ignis’ throat and there’s a tightness inside him, his emotions roiling and set to burst. “I know, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me… how much you mean to me.”

Something changes in the atmosphere of the room. There’s a charged energy here, crackling between them; something intense and ages old, yet long unsaid. Ignis knows this feeling well.

“Noct…”

Noctis bites his lip until finally his mouth pulls into a wide smile as if he can no longer contain it. “You’ve shown me what love can feel like.”

He’s shaking for sure now but it’s with an uncontrollable happiness, as are the tears that are starting to well in his eyes. “I know what it feels like to be given this kind of feeling, and.. how it feels to give it in return. I… I don’t really know what to do here, but I know I want to have it, now that we have the chance to try.”

Ignis is nearly blinded by how radiant Noctis is to him like this, all unabashed feelings and broken down walls. The way he can shake Ignis so easily, making his throat constrict and his heart run wild.

He leaves Ignis hanging on every word, wanting to hear all of it and savour every moment. His body hums with the weight of years of feelings, both good and bad, and with the turmoil of his decisions and fears and anguishes and losses, all leading to this wondrous moment that had once seemed like nothing but a dream.

Noctis leans forward. This time his hands curl around either side of his head, fingers buried in the dark strands of his hair as Noctis pulls him forward and Ignis’ raised knee is forced to the ground so he can be drawn freely into an embrace. Their foreheads bump together and for the moment neither of them say anything, simply drinking in the serenity of the moment, this unvoiced love that’s been swimming between them for ages; undefinable and unbreakable. This desire to simply be together and happy. Ignis holds Noctis’ hands where they rest against his skin, fingers tight and secure, as he always hopes the two of them will be.

“Wow,” Noctis breathes warm over Ignis’ face and his skin has tinged red, but he’s still smiling. “This is a lot harder to say than I thought. I…”

“You needn’t say anything,” Ignis tells him gently, pulling Noctis’ hands away simply so he can be the one to pull Noctis’ face down to him, planting a kiss into his hair, the dark tresses tickling across his skin. “This is enough–more than enough.”

When his lips slip down to find Noctis’ mouth for the first time, it’s blissful. It’s like coming home, knowing that together they can tread these new horizons.


	14. Rockband AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An experimental Rockband AU

Noct can feel the vibrations of the bus all through his body as it cruises down the highway, the low rumbling a constant drone in his ears. Somehow it only makes him more tired, and the muggy overcast sky visible through the windows does nothing to help his mood. Driving out of Insomnia is nice in theory, but being stuck on the road for most of it really kills the enjoyment, even if it _is_ their first tour with stops outside the city.

The four of them have been sitting on the couch that’s curved around the back wall of the tour bus for the last two hours watching the dusty plains of Leide roll by. While their morning had begun with more energetic conversation and watching some sitcom on the overhead tv, things had quickly turned quiet as their exhaustion from all their overnight gigs in the Crown City had begun to kick in. 

Now they’re all simply lazing around until their next stop. At some point Noct has moved to sit sideways across Ignis’ lap with his knees tucked up and his boots discarded on the floor, and he’s switching between scratching away on his note pad and flipping his pen around between his fingers. If he could burn a hole in the paper he would be for how hard he’s glaring down at his messy writing.

 _No, that line’s no good either_. He scratches out his latest lyrical disaster roughly, clicking his tongue and biting at the already chewed up end of his pen. Why is this so hard?

Groaning loudly he leans his head sideways until it thumps against Ignis’ shoulder, and Ignis flinches when hair tickles his neck and under his chin. To Noct’s delight he feels an arms come up around his back and fingers trace tenderly along the the lines of his shirt and up his spine, drawing out a satisfied hum from his throat. The crease between his brows lessens just a bit and he exhales slowly, thoroughly enjoying the way even the slightest of touches from Ignis soothes his nerves. Despite the fact that it’s mid-summer and they’ve been driving all day cooped up in the bus, Ignis still smells like his usual woodsy cologne that Noct has come to associate with him, and he takes a deep whiff of the intoxicating scent. 

“Problems?” Ignis tilts his head to lean his cheek into Noct’s hair.

“Just trying to write a new song. It’s… not going great,” Noct sighs, then louder he says, “I can’t write lyrics anymore, it’s over guys. Pack it up, we’re finished.”

“You’re pushing too hard, Noct. You should focus on the songs we’ve already got for now,” Gladio points out from the other side of the couch across from them. He’s been tapping his drumsticks against the table for a while, but only now does Noct register the noise. “I know they say being on the road’s good for creativity, but don’t wear yourself out while we’re on tour.”

“I know, I know.”

Ignis’ other hand rests on Noct’s thigh, his fingers tapping idly against his leg. After a moment of watching the hypnotic movement of those long, slender fingers, Noct recognizes the rhythm as guitar scales. Ignis has been doing it on and off for the last hour, clearly getting restless and itching to have his bass in his hands again. It’s also possible his legs have fallen asleep under Noct’s weight but he doesn’t complain. 

“If you told us what it is you were trying to write,” Ignis leans over, peering down at Noct’s precious notepad but he pulls it into his chest to hide it, “we could help.”

“No dice, Iggy.” Prompto’s sprawled out along the back of the couch, one foot kicked up on the backrest and some trashy dime-store magazine in his hands. “He wouldn’t even let _me_ help. I don’t think you’re getting any special boyfriend privileges either.”

“It’s personal, okay?” Noct argues.

“But I help you write all the time. What’s so special about this?”

Noct squeezes his pen and the notepad, crinkling the already abused page he’s on. “It’s just… something important. I want it to be from _me_.”

He can feel all three of them looking at him, but he doesn’t say anything more. It’s too embarrassing, but the idea had popped into his head a few nights ago watching some cheesy rom-com at 3 in the morning, so of course it felt like a brilliant idea. At the time, at least. Now he kind of wants to throw himself out the window, but Ignis’ lap is comfy and he’s snuggled comfortably in a warm embrace so maybe he’ll nix that idea for now. He could always smother himself with a pillow later. 

Prompto’s foot nearly kicks Gladio in the shoulder when he swings it down and sits up suddenly. His expression is scrunched up like he’s thinking hard about something as he peers down at whatever article he’s reading.

“Okay, so, are we considered a boyband? ‘Cause all these magazines keep calling us one.”

Noct groans and shoots him a look. “Call us that again and I’m throwing my pen at you.”

“And you’re reading the shitty ones anyways.” Gladio leans over Prompto’s shoulder and scoffs at the flamboyantly coloured full-page spread covered in pictures of them. Their band name, ‘ _Crownsguard_ ’ is in bold lettering along the top of the page, and there’s small little blurbs about them all. “No sane person would read this stuff. Half of this is from those crazy fan sites.”

“I know but look, it was the best that last stop had for magazines, okay? Besides, _technically_ we fit the bill. We’re a musical group, we’re all guys, and you definitely fit the “pretty boy” type…” He grins teasingly across the table at Noct, who scowls.

Ignis chuckles close to his ear and it makes Noct’s skin tingle excitedly when he feels the rumble through his body and the warm puff of breath against his cheek. For a moment he almost forgets what it is Prompto’s said, but then it hits him again and he cringes.

“Oh my god, no. We’re a _rock band_. The day I get all done up in make up and perform some choreographed dance routine to synth music with an auto-tuned mic is the day I have an aneurysm.”

“And the day you make _me_ do so,” Ignis adds, and though his tone is playful there’s a serious threat hidden underneath. “Is the day I break up with you.”

Noct lifts his head and does his best to look thoroughly scandalized. “You’d break up with me? Really? Just up and leave me forever?”

“Ah,” Ignis smiles and bumps their foreheads together and Noct snorts, his demeanour slipping instantly. “No, never. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Gladio groans loudly and thumps back in his seat, throwing his arms up along the back of the couch and staring up at the ceiling. “You guys want to keep the P.D.A. to a minimum in the bus please?”

“Jealous?” Noct makes a point of wrapping his arms around Ignis’ shoulders and tugging him closer until he’s pressed into Ignis’ chest and there’s no space between them. He sticks his tongue out in Gladio’s direction just as Ignis’ hands come to grip his waist, fingers squeezing his sides almost possessively as a kiss is pressed softly behind his ear. 

He manages to keep a straight face–just barely.

“Of you?” Gladio snorts. “Hell no, I just don’t have a sick bag on hand in here.”

“A little dramatic,” Ignis mutters into Noct’s hair before peppering light kisses down along his temple to his cheekbone. Noct hums and turns his head, ignoring Gladio’s exacerbated sigh and the audible thud Prompto’s head makes as it hits the table in favour of meeting Ignis’ questing lips in a proper kiss. Maybe he moans a little too loudly on purpose, too, but it’s worth the way Ignis’ tongue pushed against his, and he feels the callouses of his fingers as they dip under his shirt.

When Noct pulls back, eye’s half-lidded, he murmurs, “As nice as this is, I’m going to scream if I don’t finish this song.”

“You’ll find it, Noct, just give it time.” Ignis’ smile turns sly–nothing but pure temptation as he moves his mouth back to hover just by Noct’s ear, tucking a few strands out of the way as he does. “If it helps, I could give you something _else_ to scream about for a while.”

A small whine slips past his lips and Noct drops his face into Ignis’ shoulder, cheeks’ flaring red. There’s a familiar heat stirring to life low in his gut and he grips Ignis sleeve. God, how does he even say shit like that with a straight face? Years in the spotlight makes you a consummate actor, he supposes. Well, two can play at that game.

“I don’t know,” Noct lifts his head and tries his best to look coy as he tangles his fingers into the hair at the nape of Ignis’ neck. He let’s his nails scrape lightly over his skin as he tugs just a little until Ignis moans under his breath. “I need to rest my voice. _You_ on the other hand…”

“Oh my god guys, we’re right here!” Prompto yells, face red and his eyes practically pleading for them to stop with a mix of embarrassment and desperation. 

Noct snorts and presses his lips feather-light against Ignis’ throat before pulling back. It’s had the desired affect at least; Ignis is flushed right up to his ears, and he keeps his head turned away, avoiding Noct’s smug gaze.

“You guys do anything on the bus and I’m kicking you out.” Gladio warns.

“We’re on the highway.”

“I know.”

* * *

They’re about half way to Lestallum before nightfall, and finally they pull into a rest stop. It’s a small motel plaza with a diner across the way, and on the far side is a gas station and a small convenience store. Other than that there’s nothing else around but dense forest. Across the road is the wide open plains of Duscae and a small lake farther down into the valley where it becomes wetlands, and Noct marvels at the enormous rocky arches that blot out the sky and cast imposing shadows in the fading light of the day. 

Cor parks the bus across the street from the motel and as they all hobble off, stretching and groaning, he gives them the usual warning of, “don’t get into trouble and be back on the bus by 9 am” before he’s off in search of some peace and quiet after spending the day cooped up in the bus with them.

The four of them sit down to a meal in the diner–a quaint little place called _The Crows Nest_. It’s a little old-school, and Noct can’t say he’s a fan of the weird black bird mascot they’ve got, nor the giant plastic statue of it on the bench outside, but otherwise it’s not too bad. The foods pretty good, and he hums happily as his growling stomach is finally sated by the flavourful fish platter he’s ordered.

Prompto and Gladio sit in the booth across from him, and Ignis is tucked in close beside him, so Noct makes a habit of bumping their knees together every so often. It’s only partially a distraction for when he picks some of the bits of vegetable off his plate and slips them onto Ignis’. It’s not a great ruse because it earns him a look every time, but Noct simply continues to stare down at his plate innocently. For a while they all have the chance to just comfortably eat and talk as the night falls and the air grows cooler, and Noct finally forgets about his struggles with writing for a while.

On their way over to the motel to check in, Noct stretches and breathes in a fresh bit of crisp night air. It’s a really nice reprieve from the crowded, musty inner city, plus when he tilts his head back there’s a sea of stars in his vision, so many he feels he could be swept away. 

Ignis sidles up next to him and slips an arm around his shoulders to tug Noct into his side. He too has his head turned upwards, moonlight reflecting off his glasses. “It’s a far sight better than back home.”

“Yeah,” Noct breathes, leaning his head on Ignis’ shoulder. “Luna scheduled a few days off in Caem before we head over to Altissia. We should take the chance to go stargazing together again like when we were kids.”

“I’ll agree to that,” Ignis hums. “Are we inviting the others, or is this a private affair?”

Having Ignis to himself for a night under the stars down by the water? Noct isn’t even sure what he loves more; the romantic image of it or the implication of something more intimate. “Alone time, I think. We can invite the guys some other time.”

Ignis chuckles and looks like he’s going to say something until boisterous voices rise up behind them. The two pull apart and turn just as Prompto bounds up, near breathless.

“Guys, we’ve got fans!”

“We’re famous, Prompto.”

That earns him a flick to his arm. “No, dude, I mean we’ve got fans _here_.”

Noct tries to avoid eye contact with the group of people he sees hovering around Gladio that Prompto has clearly just escaped. There’s men and women waving pens and paper and with their phones out, Gladio already taking pictures with a group of young women. It’s almost annoying how naturally good he is at this.

“Even in such a lonely stop as this?” Ignis sighs, fingers pinching his nose. 

Prompto beams and turns, practically skipping back into the fray. “I know, how cool is that? Just wanted to let you know.”

It’s not surprising, really. They’re tour dates and schedule are posted all over their posters and their social medias, and their bus has ‘ _Crowsguard_ ’ written in big, bold, fanciful lettering along its side; it’s not exactly subtle. It’s not the first time they’ve had fans stake out their route, either. It’s weird, to say the least, but usually it’s just for pictures and autographs, and Gladio and Prompto especially love the interaction. 

Noct doesn’t mind it to a certain extent, especially since its the fans that support them and let them do what they love, but he’s… not always sure what to say. He doesn’t possess the energy to deal with loud, rowdy fans the way the other’s do, and he’s not the best at small talk and taking compliments that he’s heard a thousand times.

Ignis too is much quieter, more introverted when it comes to the fans. In fact he’s avoided more signings and meet-ups than most, so a lot of fans comment on his ‘mysterious’ nature, or some crap. If anything Noct and Prompto get a laugh out of reading those weird conspiracy theories on fan sites like he’s a damn cryptid or something.

Pushing up onto his toes Noct plants a kiss on Ignis’ cheek before pulling away entirely. 

“I’ll be on the bus. Good luck.” 

He makes a run for it before Ignis can even call his name, though he does catch the wide-eyed incredulous look on his face. Ignis is swarmed by fans before Noct’s even fully up the steps and onto the bus, and Noct has to laugh as he watches Ignis try and navigate the women crowding him. He’s not hiding his distress well.

Noct takes his refuge as a chance to head to the back of the bus and drop down onto the couch again. He swipes up his notebook and flips through the pages, wincing at the last few pages, all crinkled and covered in scribbled out lines. 

Ah, back to this. 

He _wants_ to write this song, he really does. It’s kind of sappy but it’s all he feels inspired to do and it’s consuming his focus, yet he just can’t find the words he wants. Despite what his friends may joke about he _does_ have the emotional range for this, god knows it shows in their songs, but the topic of romance isn’t one he’s delved into quite like _this_ before, so… 

Heaving a huge sigh he leans his elbows on his knees and drops his head between his shoulders, feeling thoroughly defeated. He looks out the window again. The crowd of girls around Ignis hasn’t lessened, though he’s managing to hide his discomfort better as he talks to them; his posture has relaxed and he expression isn’t so tight anymore. 

One of the women, attractive and tall with wavy dark hair up in a high ponytail, is really close in his space as they talk. Noct can feel something twisting his chest as Ignis says something and her face lights up in a laugh. She takes another step closer when Ignis’ attention turns to another women asking him to sign something, and Noct tenses and scowls watching her draw a hand up his arm, making no attempt to hide the way she leans into his space and hangs off his shoulder.

Alright, that’s a huge _no_.

There’s an ugly feeling of jealousy coiling in his gut as he stands. His and Ignis’ relationship isn’t public yet, but if Noct has to go out there and stake his claim than he damn well will. 

Luckily he doesn’t have to, because even before he’s halfway down the aisle he sees Ignis pull away entirely. One hand comes up to keep her at a distance and his expression is stern, a very clear indication that he’s telling her to step off. At least, that’s what Noct hopes he’s saying, because he sure as hell would be if it were him. Though Ignis, for better or worse, has always been more of a gentleman.

Noct sighs and slumps back down onto the couch. He shouldn’t feel jealous. He knows Ignis, he knows they’re solid. He’s not some overprotective boyfriend, he really doesn’t care who Ignis talks to and he’s not usually bothered by people if they are all over him because he trusts him, but it’s just… 

They’ve both expressed a wish to keep their relationship secret for now so as to avoid even more attention from fans. Although, there’s an increasing number of fans who already think there’s something going on between them, if the sites are to be believed. But then again Noct has seen theories about relationships between all four of them before, in various couplings and he isn’t sure if that makes him uncomfortable or if he just wants to laugh.

But the point is Noct is starting to really want to just tell the world. He _loves_ Ignis, and his dumb romantic heart wants everyone to know. 

That’s what this damn song he’s trying to write is supposed to be about, but everything he’s written so far just hasn’t been enough. Maybe he’s over complicating it? He doesn’t have to be a poet, he just needs the right words. Except they won’t come the way he wants them to. Noct groans in frustration and throws his notepad back on the table.

That’s how Ignis finds him a little while later once he finally escapes the hoard of fans, stretched out on the couch with an arm thrown over his eyes and the other hanging off the side. As soon as Ignis takes a seat next to him Noct rolls off the couch and slides over to sit straddling Ignis thighs and buries his head in his shoulder. If Ignis is surprised he doesn’t say it, and Noct loves the warm familiar feeling of Ignis’ hands coming to sit on his hips and just holding him close. 

God, this is what he needs right now. He wonders if Ignis can feel how fast his heart’s pounding in his chest as he goes slack against his body.

“Are you alright, Noct?”

“Yeah,” Noct hums and slides his arms up around his neck. “Just tired, I guess.”

Ignis’ head tilts to look over Noct’s shoulder before he leans back. “I take it the song still isn’t going well?”

A heavy sigh and Noct shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about it. How were the fans? You lived, I see.”

Ignis huffs. “They were nice enough, if not a bit too loud. I’m not suited for that kind of excitement, clearly.” Noct flinches and grunts when a finger pokes into his side hard. “Especially when I’ve been abandoned and left to fend for myself.”

Noct chuckles into his shoulder and leans back to look Ignis in the eye. There’s no real ire in the way Ignis looks at him, watching as Noct slips his glasses from his face and settles them on the table before wrapping his arms around him again. 

“Hey, I’m just giving the fans what they want. People are going to start thinking you don’t exist off stage at this rate.”

“Highly doubtful.” Ignis says, though the corner of his mouth quirks up. He leans in, eyes fluttering closed and Noct moves on instinct to meet his lips in a kiss. 

Ignis fingers squeeze around his hips and Noct wants to dive in deeper but instead he pulls back when he feels a twinge of anxiety. Ignis’ eyes stare at him, questioning and concerned as his hand comes up and his thumb runs over the downturn of Noct’s lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing just… I saw that one girl, she was kind of all over you.”

“Ah,” Ignis nods slowly. “Noct, you know I–”

Noct grins tiredly, running a hand teasingly down Ignis’ chest as he does. “Oh, no, I know. I saw. It just made me feel kind of… I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“I’m a bit flattered, actually.” Ignis soothes and leans in to press his lips softly to Noct’s forehead, hair tickling his skin. “Though you should know by now how I feel about you. You’ve no reason to worry.”

“I know. You tell me enough times. But maybe I just… want to hear it one more time.”

Noct jumps and tilts his head up as Ignis suddenly dives in to kiss him again, deep and wet. His back straightens and he slides forward in Ignis’ lap until they’re pressed fully against one another, hands clasping at clothes and Ignis’ nails scraping teasingly down his back. There’s a delightful bit of friction between their hips and Noct can’t help the way he ruts up just enough to draw a strangled moan from Ignis’ throat.

“Noct,” Ignis pulls back just enough and cups his face tenderly. Noct can still taste him when he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and feel the tingle of his skin. With their heads leaned together he sees nothing but the beautiful green of his eyes. 

“Noct, my heart is yours, and yours alone. Never forget that, love.”

Okay, now Noct just wants to melt into the couch. Heat flares in his cheeks and he whines, dropping his head to thud against Ignis’ shoulder.

“Oh my god, Specs, you are such a sap.” 

Noct slides off Ignis’ lap and sets his feet on the floor. Using his weight he pushes Ignis over until he’s flat on his back along the length of the couch. There’s a small surprised huff as Ignis hits the seat and then Noct is on him again, knees either side of his hips and flattening himself along the length of his body. Once he’s settled, their faces a breath apart, Ignis’ hands reflexively land on his hips again like they’re meant to be there–not that Noct would ever tell him otherwise.

“But I love you too,” he whispers against Ignis’ mouth. 

He feels the vibration in Ignis’ chest as he hums and holds Noct tighter to him. The kiss quickly becomes deeper until Noct feels a tongue push into his mouth to meet his, and there’s nothing but hot breath and eager lips. He moans and his hips press down eagerly, rolling together perfectly until Ignis makes a needy noise into his mouth. Hands slide up along the tense plains of Noct’s back and then back down, over his belt and tugging Noct’s shirt up enough for calloused fingers to dance over sensitive skin and send a tingle up Noct’s spine.

Those same questing fingers dip just slightly down into his waistband, thumbs tugging tantalizingly slow at his belt loops. Noct doesn’t hesitate to grind his hips down hard as an invitation, a desperate plea for Ignis to continue. 

Luckliy Ignis doesn’t seem to be in a teasing mood, and Noct lifts his hips just enough for Ignis’ fingers to slide around to the front and press a palm against him through his pants. Noct bites his lip, muffling the needy moan in his throat as the hand cupping him moves slowly, with only _just_ enough pressure and leaving him wanting more as the heat pooling low in his gut grows. Ignis’ hand continues to rub and Noct finds himself grinding down to meet it excitedly. When he feels Ignis’ fingers pulling at his zipper he wants to reach down and help if only to speed up the process, or just ditch the pants entirely, but that would mean removing himself from Ignis’ body, and he isn’t inclined to do so.

Ignis’ hand slips in and then he’s touching him again, and Noct tries his best to keep quiet even as he rocks into that wonderful friction. He leans down, eagerly opting to press languid kisses up Ignis’ neck and nip at the skin until the breathing in his ear stutters. Noct draws back after a moment, half-lidded eyes finding the fresh mark he’s sucked into Ignis’ skin as he grinds down on the hand against him again and again.

“Ah, you think, mmmhh, you think that girl would get the hint if, ahh, if she saw us like this?”

For a horrible moment Ignis’ hand stops and Noct bites his tongue irritably. Then Ignis’ voice is in his ear, deep and gruff and so very very tempting.

“Noct, never ask me to think about someone else when you’re here with me like this.”

Okay, that’s fair, and Noct can’t think of anything else to say with the way Ignis’ hand continues to palm him a second later. There’s a noticeable wet spot growing in his boxers, but Ignis makes no move to delve inside no matter how much Noct begs him to with his eyes, so he resides himself to it and sits back on his knees to start undoing the buttons of Ignis’ shirt.

It’s slow and clumsy as he’s still undulating against Ignis’ hand but eventually he get’s all but the last two buttons free and a noise comes low and deep from Ignis’ throat as Noct bends down to continue planting an assault of kisses down his body, nails scratching _just_ right over his nipples as he does. For a moment Ignis’ hand stutters and pulls back and he rocks his hips up hard. Noct meets the movement until they’re just grinding together like they’re teenagers again, his head falling back as he moans through the teeth he’s digging into his lower lip.

“Noct,” Ignis hands grip his thighs and he manages to stop the shuddering rhythm of his hips, much to Noct’s annoyance. “Did you forget we’re staying at a motel? Perhaps we should move this elsewhere.”

“Yeah, you really should.”

Noct is suddenly very alert now and he jumps off of Ignis and to his feet at the intrusive voice. He scrambles to right himself, fixing his pants and his shirt even knowing they’re too late to hide what they’ve been doing. Ignis sits up hastily but stays seated on the couch, hiding behind Noct for any semblance of dignity as he fumbles with his shirt.

From the door of the bus Gladio is leaning his lead in, his eyes off to the side but still looking thoroughly unimpressed. 

“Can you guy not do this shit on the bus, please? I booked us separate rooms. You and Iggy have one to yourselves so please use that.”

Noct groans, flushing so much it makes his whole face hot and he can’t quite look him in the eye. Gladio tosses him a key and luckily he has the wherewithal to catch it.

“Uh…”

“Our thanks,” Ignis says from behind him.

Gladio shrugs. “No problem. I just don’t want to hear _anything_ from you two. It’s bad enough I walked into _this_.”

He hops off the bus and heads for the motel, and Noct just stands there for a minute in abject horror.

“He’s not going to let me live this down, is he?”

Ignis clears his throat and stands, having fixed his clothing back to some image of pristine. “I doubt either of us are escaping this for a while.”

Noct moves to let Ignis leave first, leaning back to grab his notebook off the table. As he watches Ignis’ back fondly, he looks down at the paper in his hands. The words he’d said to Noct before come to mind again, and something clicks in his head. He’s smiling a little too much even as he follows Ignis to their room, tingling with need and now also buzzing with renewed inspiration.

_That’s it. He’s finally got his muse._

* * *

His body courses with energy, heart pounding in time with phantom rhythms. It’s like this every show–still fresh enough that it feels like waking from a dream after they finish a set. Noct stares out into the black mass of people and it’s like swimming through water. He’s half-blinded by the bright stage lights, and between the cheering and clapping and screaming he can hear his own heavy breathing. Sweat glistens on his skin, keeping his bangs pressed to his forehead, and his hands actually shake where they’re still wrapped around the microphone. 

It’s not fear though, or anxiousness. It’s _excitement–_ the thrill of a performance where he can let go and scream and rage and lose control, summoning up all the energy he can to become someone else. To feel the music through to his core, to sing the words that mean something to him. He enjoys the way his throat burns after a show, they way he feels so spent that he could sleep for a week, yet he’s so wired that he stays awake through the night, cramped fingers itching to grip his guitar again.

A nudge to his back and he finally drags his eyes–blown out and wide–away from the crowd.

“You coming?” Prompto’s voice in nearly lost in the noise.

Noct nods quickly and pries his hands from the mic, pulling his guitar up and off his body as he heads offstage. Gladio is waiting in the dark of the sidestage, wiping a towel over his face and arms. He tosses Noct a bottle of water as soon as he’s close enough, which Noct catches on reflex.

“You’re on fire, Noct.” He grins wide and slaps a hand on his shoulder hard enough that Noct rocks forward a little. 

“Thanks. We’re sounding better every day, I think.” He scans around at the faces of the backstage crew. “Where’s Specs?”

“Said he’d be back in a minute. Forgot his phone in the green room.” Gladio peers back over Noct’s shoulder, then down at his face, which has lit up with a goofy smile. “You still want to do this?”

Noct swallows a huge gulp of water and only now, at the prospect of finally performing this song, does his stomach twist. “Yeah, I think so.”

The night he and Ignis had stayed at the motel had been eventful in more ways than one. Ignis had made him feel good in all the best ways, all mouths and hands and wanton need. It was always so exhilarating the way Ignis has learned all of Noct’s more sensitive areas, and the best ways to turn him into a shaking, whimpering needy mess. It’s almost embarrassing, but it goes both ways, because Ignis is always happy to let Noct return the favour, and Noct never lets him down. They fit together so well now, so naturally after all this time that Noct sometimes wonders if they’ve ruined themselves for other people; not that either of them thinks at all about _being_ with other people. 

But after it all, and after Ignis had finally fallen asleep, Noct had stayed awake in the afterglow and spent the next hour furiously writing, his inspiration a flaming ember. Having Ignis as a calm weight next to him in the bed, all warmth and tender familiarity as they’d snuggled close afterwards only made it easier for Noct to let the words flow once he’d had his direction.

After another week spent between relaxing in Caem and travelling across the sea to Accordo, he’d planned out the sound, and had a rough of the sheet music written out for his acoustic. It was only then that he told Prompto and Gladio about it, and swore them to secrecy as to not spoil the surprise for Ignis. By the time they’d made it to their venue in Altissia, it already played like a mantra in his head.

So here he is, a song hastily put together after days of stress and so far out of his norm, yet it’s important because it’s for him, and Ignis, and maybe in a way it’s his declaration to the world. 

He grabs his acoustic and hands Gladio his water. He takes a few metered breathes and tries his best to fix himself up, tugging at his shirt and running fingers through the slickness of his hair. 

As if reading his mind Prompto hands him his acoustic and he slips the strap over his shoulder. He doesn’t play his acoustic too much, at least not live. Only one or two songs use it–mostly it’s for his more personal moments. It’s how he’d started playing, after all. 

“You think he’ll like it?” Noct asks, suddenly nervous. He feels silly doing something he’s only seen in the sappiest of films like the one he’d been inspired by, but Ignis has made him understand what it’s like to feel that; to want to sing your feelings because keeping them inside strains like a balloon fit to burst.

God, he is turning into a sap. It’s kind of nice, though.

“Dude, you’re going to kill it.” Prompto throws his arms around Noct and hugs him tightly. “It’s from you, so of course he’s going to love it.”

“The worst that’ll happen is he’ll have a heart attack.” Gladio laughs. “Or start crying. I’m voting on the latter. He’s sentimental, even if he tries to hide it.”

Blood pounds in his ears like drums as he pulls away and steps back onto stage without so much as a word to the booming cheers from their fans. This isn’t really an encore, more like a closer, but that doesn’t stop people from yelling it. 

Noct flexes his fingers around the neck of his guitar and tries to will away his anxiousness as he takes his place before the mic. He hasn’t been this nervous on stage in a long time; you’d think this was his first performance.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” He says into the mic–a customary starter for him. The response is the expected cheering and screaming, a few flashing cameras.

“We’re just about done for the night, so I just want to thank you all for coming. It’s been amazing.” Noct says slowly. His body vibrates, his fingers itch to play, the words he’s about to sing to the world dance around in his head. “Before we go though, I’ve got one more song for you guys.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees movement, and he turns his head just enough to see Ignis is standing just offstage. He’s talking to the others, brows furrowed and a frown on his face. When he looks up he meets Noct’s gaze with a questioning stare, but Noct only smiles back reassuringly. 

He turns back to mic, and the people hanging on his every word. The room has gone nearly silent. “It’s a new piece, something a bit more… personal, I guess? It’s a bit different from usual, but it’s something important to me.”

This is it. Taking a deep breath he closes his eyes, silent until he’s drowned out the room. For a moment it’s just him and the song in his head. He wants it to feel real, genuine; as beautiful as he hopes it sounds because he’s never been good at this but he wants to be. It has to come from his soul, and with all his heart.

“This is dedicated to someone very special to me.” That gets a few murmurs and yelps from the crowd. Of course the fans are dying to know who it is Noct has written a song for, though he’s sure he’s crushed some poor fans’ hearts with the revelation that he’s taken. It almost makes him laugh. Again he turns to look at Ignis, and now his eyes are wide, searching, like he’s putting the pieces together. 

God, Noct just wants to go over there and kiss him.

“I don’t think I would have made it this far without their support. We’ve been together for what feels like our wholes lives… and I hope we can be together for the rest of it.”

Wow, he’s really doing this. Scratching at the back of his neck he swallows and decided he’s had enough talking. He takes up his guitar, angles the mic right to his mouth, and in the silence of room, air heavy with anticipation, he begins to play.

“ _My heart is yours, love, yours alone, love,_ ” he let’s the first words fall from his lips smoothly. The first of his declarations, and the words he only ever hears echoed in Ignis’ voice. He wonders if Ignis realizes they’re _his_ words that resonated so deeply that he found his muse in the feelings they brought.

“ _And should you wander, there I’ll be. For where you go, love, I will follow. My heart is yours, love, and yours alone.”_

Everything has gone quiet, and Noct himself is lost in the music as he strums gently across the strings, letting his voice stay soft and light. This isn’t a rock song, it’s a ballad, and one that has an air of nostalgia to it. 

As he moves into the next verse he let’s his eyes fall shut and just listens to himself, lips forming the words almost instinctively for how much he’s practised them. They’re simple, because he knows now he doesn’t need to be complex to be honest with his heart.

_“My heart is yours, love, yours alone, love. And should the storms rise, there I’ll be. I’ll fight for you, love, to not go under. My heart is yours, love, and yours alone.”_

Suddenly he’s not in his head, he’s not in this room. He’s in his father’s office, not more than four years old, and Ignis has just come in with his uncle, only two years older and looking equally uncomfortable in such a big place. It was coincidence that brought them together, but if he were more cliche, or perhaps if he was reading one of Gladio’s cheesy romance novels, he might think it was fate.

_“You’re the song that is my heart. And it echoes deep and true.”_

They’d been together so long, become so close without even realizing. Ignis had practically followed Noct into the music industry, and in the wake of tragedies and traumas, there had also been laughter and wonder, all of which they experienced together. 

_“But if time should take me far. I’ll sing ‘til I find you.”_

They didn’t need to be in love to know they loved each other, but somewhere along the way that’s exactly what happened. The first time they’d breached that barrier, felt each other’s lips, it was like something clicking into place. Feelings Noct didn’t ever think he could feel so strongly, and ones Ignis had refused to acknowledge for fear it would cross an unsung line. Yet now they were the air in each other’s lungs, and Noct would simply not feel whole without him. 

_“My heart is yours, love, yours alone, love. And in the darkness, you’re my light.”_

The heat of the lights on his face and the strain in his throat brings him back to his body and his eyes flicker open. The crowd is enraptured, and when he spares a glance, his voice nearly hitches. 

Ignis has one arm folded across his body and his glasses dangling from his grip while the other is up and held over his mouth. His eyes are gleaming–not from the light, but from _tears_. He’s crying as he keeps his gaze fixed on Noct, practically quaking where he stands frozen to the spot. If Noct could press his ear to his chest like he’s done so many times before, he’s sure he would hear his heart hammering away and feel the unusual heat of his skin.

 _“For in this world, love, there’s no other._ ”

He keeps his eyes on Ignis as he sings now, because to look away would be to break the mesmerizing moment that’s passing between them. Ignis has to know, without a doubt, that Noct is singing this for him– _to_ him. 

His fingers dance sombrely over the strings as the tune comes to a close, swelling once more as he finishes out.

_“My heart is yours, love, and yours alone; I am yours, love, and yours alone.”_

Just like that the music ends and his hand goes limp, hanging over his guitar. He snaps back to the audience like a spell has been broken, cheering and applause erupting in his ears. He pushes his guitar around to his back and leans until his head is resting against the microphone.

Suddenly he’s breathing again and it’s all too much–the lights burn his skin, the noise makes him wince, his fingers tingle from the pressure of the strings, his throat is dry and aching.

But it’s almost good because he’s done it, and his heart feels lighter than it has in days.

“Noct!”

He doesn’t even turn before he’s enveloped in a crushing embrace. Ignis smells like sweat and the musty air of the venue, and he’s burning hot, yet Noct only laughs breathlessly and wraps his arms around him in return. More yelling from the audience tells him they know exactly where this is going, but Noct can truly say that he doesn’t care.

“You never cease to amaze me,” Ignis says softly, right in his ear, and his voice is dry and uneven. It’s more undone Noct has heard him in a long time.

Noct melts into him more, nestling his face into the crook of his neck and gripping tight to the back of his shirt. There, he does feel it; Ignis heart is racing, and he’s shivering, and there’s fresh tear stains down his face.

“I take it you liked it then?” 

Ignis pulls back just enough that there’s a breathe of space between them, noses brushing as their eyes meet, and for a moment there’s no one else in the world but them. One hand clings to Noct’s hip, holding him close while the other plays with a few damp strands of his hair, and Noct takes the chance to swipe at the wetness around Ignis’ eyes.

“Noct, I don’t have the _words_ for this. You…”

“How about the actions, then?” Noct interrupts, and he flicks his eyes to the boisterous crowd as they hoot and holler and clap. “I just showed the world how much I love you. I think it’s your turn.”

Right there on stage, Ignis’ hand moves to cup the back of his head and Noct is pulled right into those plush waiting lips. It’s forceful and passionate and so deep that Noct can only moan and wrap his arms around Ignis’ shoulders and hold on as he’s nearly bent backwards. His heart soars, and in the rush of sensations he finds his peace. It’s perfect, together with Ignis like this. He never wants to be anywhere else.

They stay like that for a long time, all but oblivious to the flashing cameras and cheers from the crowd.

* * *

“You guys made the front page.” Prompto tosses a magazine onto Noct’s chest.

Noct groans as the spine pokes his ribs but he doesn’t move from where he’s splayed out across the couch, head pillowed on Ignis’ thighs with fingers gently dragging through his hair.

Indeed when Noct picks the magazine up there’s a hastily taken and amateurish picture of his and Ignis’ kiss. It’s one of those cheap magazines again, and already there’s a number of sub-articles asking fans what they think of their relationship and speculating all kinds of this from when it started to who instigated to more personal things Noct doesn’t even want to know about. Where does Prompto keep finding these things?

Regardless, it’s all meaningless now. They let the world know, so they have to live with that. All it means now is that they’re free to be together in public, and that’s all Noct really wants.

“Let ‘em talk.” Gladio shrugs. “What’s the worse they can do?”

Noct has some idea, but he pushes away those thoughts for now.

“You know…” he tilts his head back to look Ignis in the eye, who up until this point had been reading the book he’s got in his free hand. When his gaze shifts to Noct’s, his brow arches.

“I wrote that song for you with the possibility of it being a duet.”

Ignis gives him a look, and he sighs. “Noct, you know I don’t care for singing much.”

“Come on, Iggy. Your voice is great. This song’s supposed to be, like, our love anthem or something, we’ve got to do it together.”

As soon as he says it his eyes go wide and his cheeks burn, and he turns onto his side, burying his face in Ignis’ stomach even as he hears the other’s laughing. Ignis rests a hand on his shoulder, though Noct can’t bear to look at him. 

“Love anthem? Really Noct?” Gladio snorts.

“Shut up, I know that was stupid! Leave me alone to die in peace.”

He feels the laugh through Ignis’ body when he leans down, book forgotten as he presses his lips to Noct’s ear, close enough that it tickles.

“I love you too, Noct.”

“So you’ll sing it with me?” Noct mumbles and turns his face up just enough that their lips meet in a kiss.

“We’ll see.”

“That’s not a _no_ …”

“It’s also not a _yes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRk7o468BZ4) is the song Noct is singing, for reference.


End file.
